Knights and Swords
by kujikiri21
Summary: A War brought them together, forging their bonds tightly in it's flames. At the end of it, he couldn't bare to let her go in his heart. A wish was made and the Grail granted it, twisting it. Now in a world that is similar, yet so different, to their own, a Sword and a Knight walk together, side by side. Enemies will be met. Allies, made. And Kings...crowned. Long Live The Kings.
1. Chapter 1

**Knights and Swords**

**Prologue: Coronation**

_It was time._

In his heart of hearts, weighing heavy from the thought, he knew this to be true as he stared at the blue clad back of the woman, the knight, the King, who had changed him so much since he had known her.

The King of Heroes, the Oldest King, and Archer of the Fourth Holy Grail War, was slain, his incarnation on earth returned to the dust from which it had been spun. He had been a powerful adversary, knowing no equal on the earth when he had been alive, save for one. This hadn't changed when he had ascended to the Throne, being the first to do so and becoming a legend from which all heroes in the ages that followed patterned themselves after.

Yet for all that, or perhaps _because_ of that, due to the arrogance it bred within his soul, he had fallen. To the blade of the King of Knights.

Kotomine Kirei, Priest, Exorcist, Supervisor of the Fifth Holy Grail War, an empty man who lived only to see the sufferings of others, was also slain. While not as powerful as Gilgamesh, indeed Shirou wondered who was, he had still been an opponent, an enemy. The skills he had shown, a mastery of martial arts par excellence, use of the Black Keys of the Church (and those were a hassle and a half to deal with.), excellent skills at physical reinforcement of his already trained and powerful body boosting his already dangerous skills, and a physical connection to the heart of the corrupted Grail, allowing him to summon forth the cursed mud.

Shirou shivered. Even if he had managed to emerge from the boiling darkness of hatred and rage, he still had memories of what it contained, the feelings and emotions it carried as it tried to dissolve him into the collective pool of absolute evil. The pain, physically, mentally, spiritually, was beyond belief and not something he ever wanted to encounter again.

But, despite the advantages the priest had, he too had fallen. By the hand of Shirou Emiya, third-rate magus, adopted son of Kiritsugu Emiya and Master of Saber.

He glanced down at his side, trying to distract himself from a decision he knew he would have to make. He saw the sleeping form a small girl, her red eyes closed and her white hair, like pure snow, being used as her pillow on the grass.

If there was at least one good thing that came of this whole War, corrupted and fake as it was, it would be meeting this young girl, a legacy he hadn't known about from his father. Despite her looks of a preteen, the girl was surprisingly older than his sixteen years, a mark of her being what she was, what the Einzbern's had created her to be.

At least, now that she knew the truth, and he did as well, the shackles on her mind crafted by that family had fallen away, letting her taste the fruit of freedom for the first time in her life. Even with her actions toward him at the beginning and the pain they had both caused each other during the War, he couldn't help, but think fondly of Illyasveil von Einzbern.

Though that fondness was tempered by sympathy, and perhaps a bit of pity, for the bitter truth he knew about her. Zouken, monster that he was, had been quite clear on the homunculus' eventual fate, smiling slightly all the while. If all of humanity was like him, then Shirou wouldn't hesitate to become a monster.

"Shirou," a voice spoke, interrupting his wandering musings, drawing him back to reality.

He looked back at the back of the King of Knights, straight and tall (to a point) and proud, the pillar of nobility and strength on which the kingdom is supported, as she stood before him, ready to do her final duty.

A duty that would take her from him.

He clenches his fists, and bites his lips hard enough that he could taste the coppery tang of spilled blood. He desperately wants to say words, words that they both knew he could not allow himself to express, no matter how much he wants to. Not at this time. Not with the final duty she had to perform and the consequences of it.

"Master, please give the order," the one who held his heart said, even as he engraved her figure into his memory, casting his view, his final view, of her within stone in his mind, never wanting to forget her, never allowing himself to forget her, "I cannot destroy it without your order."

She never turned to look back, facing forward and looking up to the floating orb of darkness, the so-called Holy Grail, tainted in darkness to become what it now was. Shirou had conflicting feelings about it.

It was the cause of so much suffering, so much death and destruction and pain, that it was hard not to hate it, to want to destroy it despite the tempting offer of power and fulfillment of dreams thought impossible it gave.

On the other hand, if it had not existed, if the Grail War had not been created...

He would never have met Saber.

Never have fought side by side with her.

Never had laughed with her and shared her sorrows.

Never had seen warmth and humanity rise with those emerald jewels of her eyes.

_Never have loved her._

But he knew that there was no place for the Grail in this world, not as it was now, tainted and vile, a mockery of what it should have been, a mere living curse that wanted nothing more than the utter and complete annihilation of everything it touched.

And Saber was the only one who had the strength and power to be able to destroy it completely, never letting it taint the world with it's hatred ever again.

But the Grail was the reason she was here, the reason she had become a Servant in at least two of the Wars. It kept her anchored to this world once she was summoned, supplying her with power that no mere magus could match.

If she destroyed the Grail, Saber would disappear.

No- if she destroyed the tainted vessel, Saber would never be able to become a Servant again.

Obtaining the Grail was her purpose though, the goal for which she had shed blood for, centuries ahead of her original time.

If she destroys the Grail out of her own will, her contract with the world would be broken. And if it was broken...

It would end her life as a King.

"-Shirou. I want to hear you say it." She spoke again.

Her voice. Every time he heard it, he wanted to scream, to yell at her not to go, to not leave him. He wanted to throw away his pride, to keep her at his side.

(Unnoticed to the pair beneath it, the orb of darkness, the tainted Grail, softly began to pulse. A great black heart that hovered above them as it felt the tearing emotions of it's new owner. The one who had already won the prize.)

But, that is something he couldn't do, that he shouldn't do.

He loved Saber, he had no doubt at all about that. He wanted her to be happier than anyone else in the world and to be with her forever.

But if he truly loved her, that was wrong.

He had loved her even as, injured heavily and bleeding out, she had continued to fight and battle.

She had discarded everything that she was, everything that she had been, giving everything and asking nothing back, and continued to protect.

If he found it to be such a beautiful thing, even if it was tinged with sadness, and wanted to protect it...

He could not destroy it just to sate his own selfishness.

Saber was born a King, lived as a King. That would not change. Ever since she had drawn Caliburn from the stone, she had become a King and nothing else. She ran through the battlefields, taking the enemy head on, believing that her path was the true one, the right one, even in her final moments.

These were the dreams of the girl that was Arturia, the girl who had chosen to become King, forsaking her own life, to fight. Even when she knew that, in the end, she would go unrewarded, she had grasped her sword and protected her oath of the King.

It was her pride.

And Shirou would not do anything to dishonour something she had held until her time of death.

(The Grail pulsed stronger, still ignored, feeding off the darkening thoughts.)

"-Saber," he said softly, but firmly, even as he felt his throat begin to close at the strength of the suppressed emotion he had, "Please fulfill your role."

Nothing else was said.

Shirou could feel the last Command Seal slowly begin to burn away, erasing itself from his skin. He didn't pay it any mind. Pain was something he was used to. And that pain was nothing compared to what his heart felt as he watched Saber begin to glow with a bright golden aura, her sword held aloft and shining even brighter.

A pillar of light erupted from around her, winds howling and the forest trembling and shaking before it's might, even as the water of the lake rippled and twisted, as if a storm were in it's depths.

This would be the last time he saw her. In this last magnificent and sad moment.

(The Grail twisted and writhed aloft on it's invisible perch in the sky. It could feel the power of the last Servant, the strength and purity of the golden light.

It could destroy it! Eliminate it from existence!

No! It didn't want that! It refused to do go quietly! But that there was nothing it could do. Only wait for the headsman's axe to fall.)

It was in that moment, as the light was released toward the 'void' in the sky, a beam of holy judgement and power, that he, privately, whispered in his heart, not daring to taint the purity of this moments with spoken words, a single wish.

_'I wish we could be together._'

(The Grail was frantic. It's demise swiftly approached. It wanted to survive. It didn't want to die. Out of sheer desperation, out of madness and mania, it sent out a thought to the fickle and unfeeling God, a final plea for aid from it's very anti-thesis.

At that moment, by complete chance, it heard something, something that it could use, something that would let it survive.

_'I wish we could be together._'

The boy, it's holder and triumphant bearer, had not spoken aloud, only in the privacy of his mind, but it was able to hear that thought, that hidden desire, due to link he had with it through being the winner of the War, something that was in it's construction so as to understand what wish the winner would make in order to fulfill it.

The boy was the winner, the final one standing with their Servant. The boy had made a wish. It's function was to fulfill wishes of the winner with the power of seven Servants. Six of the current war's Servants were killed, residing within it to empower it. It would normally need for the final master to order their own Servant to kill themselves to initiate the wish fulfillment process.

But **_Seven_** Servants had died.

That Golden King, one that escaped it's clutches from the last war, had been killed and was now dwelling within it's darkness.

It had enough power to grant a wish.)

As Shirou watched, the golden light struck the void in the sky, though, for a moment, he thought he saw the darkness shift and expand just before the power of the Sword of Promised Victory struck home, cleaving it in half.

Then it happened.

As the two hemispheres of the void lingered for a moment, golden fire racing along the edges of the cut the beam of power had caused, before they expanded the sky...

And a wave of darkness descended towards them.

Shirou was too shocked to move, too slow to react, as the wave of darkness, filled with a rainbow light within it's depths, engulfed him, seeming to devour him. As he was absorbed in it's cold, slick and oily embrace, he could just see a shocked Saber also being struck and absorbed, swallowed hungrily by the rainbow tinted void.

Then that oily power, so strong and potent, engulfed his head, blinding him...

Then he knew no more.

* * *

Angra Mainyu, or at least a manifestation of the being, also known as the Holy Grail, smirked painfully to itself as it engulfed the Master and Servant pair with it's power.

The stupid boy had made a wish, something it could act on in order to prevent it's _complete_ destruction. That wasn't to say it was unharmed, the holy light of that accursed sword was painful beyond belief, but it had survived and would rise again when it's form had healed enough to start a new War.

With the wish fulfillment aspect of itself activated, it was able to take advantage of the power that resided within it, drilling a hole through the barriers of space and time towards the Root of All Existence and drawing on the power that resided there.

It was close, perhaps even too close, but with the wish fulfilled, it could be reborn again, in time.

It 'looked' into the distance, it's senses 'seeing' beyond the mundane and the bounds of reality, to see where he had thrown the pair. The wish had been for the two of them to be together, it hadn't specifically stated _where_ they would be together or _how_. That had given it a lot of leeway in how to grant it.

Unfortunately, it didn't have the luxury of time, it's own existence was in peril, and had simply scooped them both up and randomly thrown them through the ways between worlds. Many called it Chaos, some called it the Primordial Sea, others stated it was the Egg of the Beginning. There were even a few that called it the Kaleidoscope and at least one mention in an old scroll that called it the 'Dimensional Gap'.

It just called the space 'a big empty place filled with all the colours of the world'.

Whatever it truly was, it was a place that the Master and Servant pair could be 'together'. Together in oblivion that is, as the sheer power within the space between worlds, chaotic and surging, began to crush their souls, erasing them from existence.

It would only be a matter of time. It wondered which of them would last the longest; the Servant, a powerful force and a heavy resistance to magical power? Or the boy, who's very soul was enduring and powerful enough to potentially manifest itself in the world?

In either case, it turned it's 'eyes' toward them, eager to see their painful death...

Only to find that something looked back.

Golden orbs looked at it through the barriers that divided the worlds, looking at it with an intensity that shook it.

The Power! The sheer unadulterated _Power_ contained in those golden eyes! It was leagues above it's own, so high as to be incalculable! What possible being could have that much strength? Was it a God, one that somehow retained it's power from the past Ages?

Those fierce golden orbs, slitted and reptilian, narrowed as they looked at it's tendril of power that had thrown it's victims into the Chaos.

Angra Mainyu tried to pull back, to leave the presence of a being so far above itself as to not be funny. It didn't dare risk angering that being, those golden orbs showed little mercy within them for those that crossed them.

Only to find it couldn't leave, couldn't move it's 'sight' from the Presence. Those golden eyes were locked on it's own, wrapping the power they gave off around it, pinning it in place. Unable to move, unable to leave.

Vulnerable. Helpless.

The golden eyes gleamed slightly, as if taking pleasure in the knowledge that it was helpless, like a worm on a hook, before the 'All the Evils of the World' felt power, power beyond it's own, flowing down the link, a golden inferno that consumed it as it went.

_No. **No. Nononononono!**_

The golden blaze, unstoppable and unyielding, consumed every part of the demon as it poured forth, time and space and dimension meaning nothing to these bright flames of pure destruction.

It breached the barrier between the Primordial Sea and the World, smashing through it with the sound of shattering glass as the dimensional wall that protected the World, for one brief moment, failed.

And in that single moment, all was laid to waste in a golden sea of fire and power and wrath.

That single moment would go down in history of Fuyuki city as the day of Two Suns. As dawn had arisen, a massive inferno had engulfed Ryuudou Temple, the oddly golden flames destroying it almost impossibly swiftly and completely. Strangely enough, investigations showed that it originated from a cavern below the temple, deep within the heart of the mountain, that the residents of the now ruined temple had been completely unaware of. It was apparent that something in the cavern had exploded, which had simultaneously caused a collapse of the immense cavern and unleashed the golden flames upon the Temple that rested above.

Further reports, upon being gathered by the somewhat bewildered and panicky local police from witnesses within the area, also mentioned a loud sound being heard before the explosion and resulting flames. Those that heard it compared it to a howl of complete anguish and despair, full of fear and hatred.

It was dismissed out of hand.

Thankfully for the local populace, despite the utter devastation of the mysterious golden inferno, there were few casualties or deaths, unlike the Fuyuki Fire a decade previous.

One was a small albino girl, one Illyasveil von Einzbern, who was found near the scene of the explosion, unconscious. She was quickly taken care of and the head of the Tohsaka family, Rin, had taken her in until further notice.

The only confirmed death was that of Kotomine Kirei, priest of the local church. It had looked like someone had set an explosive off in the man's body. No one was sure why the man was there, he was a reclusive man at the best of times, but many mourned his death. Further investigations into the cause, reason and perpetrator of his demise were still ongoing.

The last mysterious event surrounding the whole catastrophe was the disappearance of Shirou Emiya. He had last been seen in the area and, due to his reputation as fix it man for many, was a 'person of interest' to the local police. Unfortunately, there were no leads as to his whereabouts, as if he had vanished from the face of the earth.

All in all, the Two Suns incident was just another mysterious disaster attributed to the city of Fuyuki and it was highly unlikely that anyone would find out the truth of the events surrounding it.

* * *

The being with massive golden eyes snorted, his breath stirring the air like a hurricane, as he saw the complete and utter destruction of the one that had dared to stare at him. That would teach the punk.

The being then turned toward the two new occupants of this realm, ones that had dawn his attention as they were thrown by the no-faced punk into this realm like they were disposable trash.

One was a petite blonde haired woman, girl really if you went by physical features, clad in an elaborate blue dress and clenching a sword, a Holy Sword, and one of great power. In fact, he didn't think he had ever seen any Holy Sword rival this one's power except for...

...

The crimson scaled head paused for a moment, narrowing those reptilian orbs in thought. It couldn't be...could it? What were the chances?

He shook his great muzzle briefly. He would think on that later, he really wanted to know what these two were. He continued his inspection of the girl.

One thing he noticed was that she was a spirit of some variety. A powerful one too. But seemed to be...incomplete. Lacking something. And that lack was making her quickly start to dissipate, becoming mere energy for the realm to absorb.

He couldn't have that, not at the moment anyway, he was still too interested.

With barely a thought, his immense power reached toward the girl, engulfing her in it, creating a transparent golden egg like construct that would both keep her from dissolving into the ether and would help him to investigate the female.

A second thought and he created one around the male figure as well, couldn't have him dying until he got his answers.

He turned back to the woman, shaking out his immense wings briefly as he got comfortable on his four massive legs, readying himself to look deeper in this mystery.

His eyes glowed a bright gold, even as the golden egg around the woman also flared brighter.

Then images struck him, memories of the woman.

_A sword in the stone and her hands drawing it forth, swearing to become King to protect her country and giving up humanity._

_Battles. Battles unending and unceasing. Blood and gore littering the ground like chaff during the harvest._

_A round table, filled with knights, eating and drinking and making merry, even as she, their King, sat removed, a bare smile on her lips at their joviality, the only emotion she allowed herself, the only time when she felt human._

_A face, the mirror of her own, twisted in a visage of shock and anger, as she rejected the one who wore her face._

_"King Arthur does not understand human emotions." Striking words from one of her own knights. But nonetheless true. As a King, this was needed._

_Knights left the castle, leaving her service. She did not shed a single tear on her throne even as they, past friends, left. A King does not have a heart._

_The final battle, the worst of them. Brother met brother in a clash of steel and blood. Corpses piled high and the earth turned red. On a hill of swords, the last ones standing fought, a 'father' and his 'son'._

_The King, fallen and dying, now lay against a tree, as if in rest, reached out to the world. A contract was made._

_A new era, a strange place and a Master colder than ice._

_More battles, more war. Steel, death and bloodshed. Nothing seems to change._

_"You saved them, but you never led them. You never showed them what a king should be. You abandoned your men when they lost their way. Then, alone and untroubled, you followed your own petty little ideals._

_"Thus, you are no true king." Words had never shook her more than those from the red haired giant._

_The Grail was in sight, within her grasp._

_"By the power of the Command Seal, I order you, Saber, destroy the Holy Grail."_

_Her scream of anguish as she was forced to destroy the one thing that could have helped her achieve her goals._

_Another summoning, a fallen red haired boy, looking up at her in shock and awe._

_Side by side they fought, even as she berated him for being foolish, even as, deep within her armoured chest, something pulsed warmly._

_By his side, both of them bare of clothing, she slept gently, nightmares for once not touching her sleep._

_She glared at the Golden King, knowing he was stronger but facing him anyway. To protect._

_She walked past her Master, the one she loved, not daring to look at him, knowing that, if she did, she wouldn't have the strength to do what needed to be done._

_A blast of darkness, engulfing and devouring her, even as she turned to protect her Master._

_Then true darkness._

Reptilian eyes blinked, drawing him out of the mind and spirit of the one he now knew was a version of King Arthur. _That_ had been a trip and a half. What a rush.

He looked down at the small speck compared to his colossal size. She was _definitely_ interesting, and the boy seemed intriguing as well just by going from the King of Knights memories. He wasn't willing to let such an interesting being disappear, that would be wasteful.

And not as entertaining.

Another surge of his immense power, crossing time and space, and it latched onto the fallen human form of the King of Camelot, and drew her into the Gap (surprising a certain knight with the disappearance as he returned from doing his duty.).

Another thought and surge, and the body was simultaneously healed and merged with the spiritual clone their World Spirit had created for her to battle in those Wars. In effect, he had given the physical body the prowess and strength of her spiritual one, while at the same time giving her the mortal bodies capacity to grow stronger.

He grinned to himself slightly, exposing teeth longer than swords and sharper than any mortal blade. He loved having such immense power, it made a lot of things possible and much more interesting.

Now for the boy.

A massive reptilian head turned toward the aura encased boy. The female King of Knights was interesting but this boy, this young man, this mere mortal...

He intrigued him.

Somehow, the boy was able to manifest, to _create_, a copy of Caliburn, a Noble Phantasm, if he got the terminology correct, of great power, something that, by all rights, should have been impossible.

Not to mention he felt something from the boy, an echo of his own power of 'dreams' or, to be more specific, the power to 'manifest dreams onto reality'. _That_, more than anything else, had drawn him to this place within the Gap.

He reached with his power again, touching the cocoon of power that encapsulated the comatose human male, his eyes flaring a burning gold once more, even as the cocoon also flared brilliantly.

* * *

It should be noted, at this point, that there exists in magecraft a theory called 'Spiritual Resonance'.

It stems from the theory that all living things are a manifestation of the many different aspects of the Root. Spiritual Resonance is the theory that beings of compatible, similar or same aspects, also known as Origin in humans, would be drawn to each other, seeking to become whole, to be more complete.

It was from this theory that the romantic myth of 'soulmates' came from. While there is no truly 'one destined to capture the heart forever', there can be subconscious leanings or desires toward the one that someone's soul feels compatible with. This can be enhanced by time, experience, proximity and various rituals (the sharing of blood to become blood brothers is a corruption of a primitive ritual that does just that).

Symptoms of this bond forming include, strange dreams (which are actually memories of the other), a change of mannerisms, sudden knowledge of things that they would have otherwise not have known and even, in the case of magi, spontaneous evolution or development of new magical skills.

It has been theorised that the stronger the bond, the more symptoms will arise, and the more powerful they would be.

Another part of that theory is the fact that if, by some chance, one was meet their self of another world, likely through a prank from the Wizard Marshall, that their souls would almost automatically synchronise unconsciously, leading to an otherwise unknown trade of memories. Each receiving a full set of the other's memories that would remain hidden deep within the psyche until some event were to trigger it's activation, as their own conscious mind would seek to suppress what it saw as alien thoughts.

Events like someone delving into their mind.

Either that or they would both die due to Gaia's sensing of paradox, but who cares about that.

* * *

Images floats through his mind again, but it was different this time, more chopped, more confusing, like he was reading two minds at once.

Still, he was a being that had been in existence for millennia on end. A series of memories from two beings whose lives passed in a blink of his eyes would be nothing.

_Fire filled the air, like a living thing. Menace and rage and hatred as it devoured everything around, seeming to reach towards those who ran from it. The scent of burning flesh, ash and corruption choked the air._

_And through this slice of hell on earth, a boy staggered forward, step by step. Eyes blank and unseeing as his body moved like an automaton. His mind, however, was even worse. Memories, thoughts, feelings, one by one, with every step he made, were sacrificed to those unholy flames, just to make another step._

**Fire filled the air, like a living thing. The scent of burning blood choking the air, tainting the lungs of any who breathed. Above the scent, the sounds of metal cutting flesh was heard, the butchery of war in full swing. The source was a white haired man, tall and tanned, clad in a crimson coat and black chest armour, as he slashed with swords of light and darkness into a twisted being, a monster, with fish belly pale flesh and eyes as crimson as blood.**

**Twisted claw, faster than the eye could see, crashed against steel, each side of the conflict determined to win, to survive, to kill the other.**

**Only time would tell who was the victor.**

_Eventually, the boy had nothing left, no more to give, and fell, his eyes closing, awaiting the end. Time passed, the crackling flames and distant screaming heard but not acknowledged. Then he felt something, a golden power seemed to seep into his mind, the scent of honeysuckle momentarily overpowering the burnt air. Wondering, the now nameless boy opened his eyes._

_He looked up into the face a man, dark of hair and disheveled, eyes streaming with tears as they looked down at him. Strangely, those teary eyes were not sad, but filled with happiness, with an unbounded joy. Something moved within the empty soul of the child._

_'I wish I could be that happy.'_

**Eventually, the boy had nothing left, no more to give, and fell, his eyes closing, his life having ended. The red knight sighed heavily, bitterly. Just another failure. Another life he could not save.**

_Standing before a class of children, "I want to be an Ally of Justice."_

**Standing before a crowd of people, one's that he had saved, that now cried for his death, he smiled softly. Even as the headsman's axe fell.**

_Kneeling before a small shrine on a mat, focusing intently as he forged a magical circuit, his spine feeling like a hot poker was being shoved down it as he did. He ignored the pain, welcoming it as a friend. If pain was the price for the power to right wrongs, he would gladly pay it._

**Kneeling, focusing intently, he prayed. Offering up his soul and service if he was given the power to save those before him. A mere hundred souls would live on in exchange for his service to the world after death.**

**A fair trade.**

_Running from a warrior in blue, the warrior's speed in human, showing that he was no ordinary being. A magus maybe? Cornered now, the boy tried to fight, to live, to survive._

_He failed. The crimson spear impaling his heart._

**Running from a warrior in blue, a twisted warrior whose power was great as his mind and soul were twisted. His mind in a film of red, the World empowering him. A quick and twist and then the threat to humanity was cut down, it's head separating from it's body.**

**A quick glance around, looking for more enemies, for more monsters to slay, showed nothing but a field of the dead, many of them having fallen to his blades. Even the children.**

**Mission accomplished, he faded from the world, returning to the Root, awaiting the next call the next slaughter he would have to perform.**

**He hated this.**

_"I ask of you; Are you my Master?"_

_The boy could do nothing more than stare from where he was, fallen on the floor of his workshop. The figure exuded majesty, regality, nobility and power as she stood there, looking down on him._

_Who was this girl?_

**BOOOM!**

**CRASH!**

**He felt himself slam into a sofa, winding himself slightly. He stared up at the hole in the roof, trying to figure where he was, who he was.**

**A door leading to another part of the house tore open, revealing the form of a girl, one with the subtle aura of a magus, with long black hair, looking at him in disbelief.**

**"What a frightening Master I have." He said with a smirk**.

_He sees her on the ropes, about to die from the next attack from the Berserker known as Heracles. Without hesitation, he throws himself in front of the massive stone axe-sword. Pain erupts down his front, feeling like he had been split in half. But he managed to save her, save Saber, that was all that mattered._

**He looked at the fallen red haired boy, one that had foolishly thrown himself in front of Berserker's blade. Idiot boy, foolish child, naive. His wrath awakened at the sight of such a fool. Did he know this boy? He felt like he should. But his mind was so clouded, his memories unclear. Time will tell.**

_Glass shatters as he was thrown out of the window by Rider. As he falls, he doesn't falter. He knows he has no other choice._

_"Saber, I order you to come!"_

_Out of a ripple of air she appears, a soldier ready to fight._

_Now Rider would be able to fall._

**Still a fool, if a brave one. Beaten and wounded, he stands, ordering his Servant to go for the Rider and not to worry about him as he went after the Master.**

**Brave, but still a fool.**

**So like himself.**

_He looked upon a sword that he knew had no equal. A sword that as famous as it's wielder. The Sword of Promised Victory. Excalibur._

_And thus he knew his Servant's identity_.

**Memories assaulted his mind as he saw the golden light atop the skyscraper, tearing apart the sky and the Servant in it. Memories of a boy, a foolish boy, wanting to be a hero. Of hero saving people wherever he could, asking nothing in return. Visions of the people turning on the hero, a sacrifice to the masses because they could not understand him.**

**He knew who he was.**

_His sleeping mind is assaulted by memories, his own and others. A girl drawing a sword from the stone. Of a lonely woman king._

_A memory of his father's passing, drifting off into the realm of the dead as he talked until dawn._

**He remembers now, this place, this time. It was his home. And that boy was himself, before he made that foolish sacrifice, before he became Alaya's attack dog. He remembers the wish he desired, for his existence to end.**

**Pity he couldn't do it here.**

_He stares at a crimson back as Archer stands tall and powerful before the monstrous Berserker._

_"Understand." The Servant spoke, solemn and firm as he stared down the raging bestial Servant, "you are a maker, not a fighter."_

_The Berserker charged the empty handed Archer, his voice roaring and unintelligible._

_"Do not think about other things. There is only one thing you can do. So master that one thing."_

_A hand was raised by Archer, his tone never wavering and not single other muscle moving. The boy couldn't see how, but a short sword appeared in that hand._

_"Do not forget. What you must imagine is always that you yourself are the strongest. You do not need outside enemies. For you, the one you have to fight is none other than your own image."_

_The red back of Archer sinks. Berserker roars louder as he falls upon Archer with a fury._

_The boy turns and runs, never looking back, even as those words from the nameless Servant echo in his mind. Fainting, he thought he could hear the sound of grinding gears and hammering blows of a smith's hammer striking an anvil._

**"I am the bone of my sword,"**

**The words echoed in the entrance hall of the Einzbern Castle. Carrying a weight to them that they couldn't have carried if used by anyone else, even if they were shouted at a stunning volume.**

**"Steel is my body and fire is my blood,"**

**A wounded Archer looked at his foes. A mammoth giant of being, for he was certainly no human, and a small child with red eyes and white hair. A homunculus of the Einzbern.**

**"I have created over a thousand blades,"**

**he discarded the memories he had of the girl, one that would die too soon, even if she lived through this war. IIlya's fate was a sad one, no matter how he sliced it.**

**"Unknown to death,**

**Nor known to life,"**

**The girl looked at him confused, a cute look that belied the savage ruthlessness that hid in her heart.**

**"Have withstood pain to create many weapons,**

**Yet these hands shall never hold anything,"**

**He hoped his Master had managed to escape. He knew this was a last ditch effort. He could win here, or he could die. Either way, he wouldn't go down without a hell of a fight.**

**He just hoped that the back up plan he had left with his more foolish self would be enough to save them all if he fell here.**

**"So, as I pray, Unlimited Blade Works."**

**And fire filled the world, casting off the curtain of reality.**

**Revealing his own world. A world of blades and dust. The sky thundered with the grinding of gears. It was not a nice world, lacking anything of comfort. But he was not a nice person, or even a person at all.**

**He was merely a sword.**

_'If it is an opponent you cannot match in real life, beat it in your imagination._

_If you cannot beat it yourself, imagine something that you could beat it with.'_

_Those words struck his mind, making him grasp onto the slim hope that would allow them all to live through this night. A night where he had settled at Saber's side, skin against skin, in effort to give her more power._

_He mind turned in on itself, focusing on a sword that would allow Saber to defeat Berserker without endangering her own existence._

_Flash!_

_A new sword appeared in his hand, shocking Saber who recognised the blade._

_Now they had a chance._

_He glared impotently at the arrogant golden king, his amber eyes fierce. He had no defence, no chance at winning._

_Nonetheless, he forced his body to move, to protect his fallen Servant, his lover._

_Surging his body with magic, he could feel his mind burn and strain._

_That didn't matter. Only Saber did._

_He felt the evil bath him in it's power, it's curses. Making him rage in pain and agony as he was devoured by the darkness. But he refused to go, to fall. He fought against the despicable black mud, curses of the world taken physical form. Then he felt something, something gold and powerful, something that felt like Saber._

_He reached for it. He could see it, could feel it. He knew it's name._

_Avalon._

_He watched as Saber swung her blade, calling upon her sword one last time._

_'I wish we could be together.'_

_That was his thought._

_The Grail was cut, bisected and burning away. Then it went wrong. A wave of darkness spilled over them both, engulfing him and Saber in it's foul embrace._

_His last thoughts, before the darkness took him, were of Saber._

* * *

His golden eyes dimmed, returning to their usual reptilian state as he pulled himself out of the distorted mind of the mortal boy.

_That_ had been more than intriguing. A boy of one time unknowingly meeting a possible version of his own self. One who had the potential to make his dreams a reality, who could over turn the rule of the world and make it their own.

These 'Reality Marbles'...How fascinating.

He rumbled to himself in thought. These two were more than interesting to him. He had seen the struggles they had gone through, the paths they had trod and the actions they had taken. He also saw what that oily puddle of black piss had tried to do. Thankfully, he had 'flushed' said puddle of piss. With fire.

But what to do with these two?

He generally didn't interfere with anything, so long as they didn't piss him off, content to just fly within the Gap. But that oily piss stain had dared to set foot in this realm, to look upon him, just so it could bask in the final painful moments of these two.

He had destroyed the stain, but why not add insult to injury?

He nodded a massive head. Yes, he would give these two a new lease on life, a second chance. The world that Infinite Annoyance currently occupied would be sufficient. Though it require some modifications to these two.

Well, the boy anyway.

The young King would be fine. She would have the abilities she had as a Servant. The strength and skill. And with him bonding her to her flesh once more, she could grow beyond those strengths. He chuckled, sounding like an avalanche. He couldn't wait to see that world's reaction to her existence. The descendents of that world's Arthur, due to who she is, and the hosts of the Heavenly Dragons, due to the Factor of the Red Dragon, in particular. Not to mention having a completed Excalibur.

It should be amusing to say the least.

Yes, she would be fine, able to take on most that would challenge her already, and could potentially grow strong enough to face everything else as well, to the point of potentially facing Gods. Avalon would be an excellent trump card in those fights. He was rather partial to it actually. A manifestation of the King's dream of a world without strife. Yes, he could get behind that, even if he didn't think he would like such a world.

He was the Apocalypse Dragon! He didn't care overly well for a world full of puppies and rainbows, thank you very much.

Now the boy...

He scrutinised the small being, one that was smaller than one of his eyeballs.

Difficult, very difficult.

The powers he had now, potentially, could be quite the game changer in that world, provided he had enough 'petrol in the tank' to use them. Which presented quite a problem.

If one were to compare this third-rate magus to even a low class devil, in the power stakes...well it wasn't good and let's leave it at that. The Reality Marble he unknowingly had, Unlimited Blade Works, could easily offset the powers such a devil had. But as you moved up the ranks, it was clear that the boy would become more and more outclassed, to the point that even if he pulled out the full Marble, he would get bulldozed.

He couldn't have that happen, not to one that expressed a degree of his own powers. Such defeats would reflect poorly on him and his dominion. His pride wouldn't let one who even remotely represented him be seen as weak.

So the kid needed an edge, something that could give him an advantage but, at the same time, not take away from the kid's own determination. The kid was someone who worked like a dog for every scrap of ability he had, his alternate self showed that, and became a certifiable badass along the way, something he could respect.

Even he was slightly awed at EMIYA. He was a man that had always been the underdog, was always outmatched, outnumbered and outgunned, and yet he still managed to pull off feats worthy of story and song. All because he worked and focused and refined, never giving up, always tinkering and perfecting his skills.

He would have been a true hero, ascending to the Throne proper, if he had been born in another age.

Still the rules would be different in the other world, the kid needed something, something that he would have to work for. A Sacred Gear of some type would be an option. He kind of liked the principle of their workings, responding to the desires of their bearers and often changing and mutating to align with the bearer's dreams. And he was all about dreams.

They were the Magnus Opus of the Bible God, though, and he wasn't exactly around anymore to share the secrets of their manufacture. He _may_ be able to create one perhaps, he had observed them out of curiosity for a while a few hundred years ago and had looked in on the leader of the Fallen Angels quite a few times and had made a few guesses, but it wouldn't be a part of the system set up by the Bible God.

Whether that was a good or bad thing, he wasn't sure.

Either way, he would leave that on the table for now after he thought over his other options.

Another option would be for him to optimise the kid's body, soul and magic.

He was thinking along the lines of granting him a core, similar to the one the King had, which would greatly increase his magical capacity and grant a dragon's constitution and bodily might, to an extent. Meaning that the draconic energy could probably heal those wounded and atrophied circuits of his, bringing them to their full strength while also granting him the enviable ability, at least in his birth world, of being able to increase his well of magical power naturally. Something that magi of his birth world could not do. In addition, with his body taking on dragon traits, his physical prowess, like senses, strength, endurance, speed, reflexes and the like, would increase and, with the Reinforcement, had a higher threshold potential, thus letting him be able to increase his bodily might even more.

However, it would also leave him vulnerable to dragon-slaying weapons, several of which were stored in his Unlimited Blade Works and he wasn't sure how his body and soul would react if he tried to Trace them. Could do nothing, could destroy him from the inside out as they were formed.

He also thought about transferring EMIYA's thoughts and memories into the kid, granting him access to a shit load of Noble Phantasms and Mystic Codes the Counter Guardian had seen and all the experience that the Guardian's memories could provide. However, that had already been done due to him rummaging in the kid's head.

The boyo was going to have one _Hell_ of a headache when he woke up.

The final option, as far as he could see, involved him crafting the kid a few weapons and accessories. An equivalent of Noble Phantasms. Ones that could be used by the kid without having him go to the Throne of Heroes first.

If the fairies of the kid's world could do it for the woman King, then he should be able to do the same, if not better!

Choices, choices.

He thought, he ruminated, he thought some more.

Then he made his choice.

His eyes shone gold as he worked the magic of dreams.

* * *

In a quiet field, as the sun beamed down on the rolling hills that surrounded it, a unique event took place.

An empty patch of air seemed to shatter, the sound of glass cracking heard by the small animals near it, causing them to run. That patch of air swirled and twisted, iridescent colours, green, blue, red and more, like a swirling rainbow, a kaleidoscope of madness to the eyes of any who would be foolish enough to look upon it.

From this doorway to Chaos spilled forth _power_. Endless power. Power without limit or restraint. The earth shook, the grass swayed violently and the massive oak nearby quivered like jelly. The few animals that were still around, either uncaring or curious, bolted for the hills. The power carried the weight of a being as far above as the sky was from the earth. The power of a predator supreme, the apex of the food chain.

They had no desire to meet such a being.

The rainbow door into madness quivered and rippled slightly, like a disturbed pond, as something emerged. An egg shaped object made of an opaque golden power, the faint shadows that may have been seen on this massive 'egg', it's size exceeding six long and three feet wide, indicated that something swelled within, was contained within this construct of power.

Finally fully emerging, it hovered there a moment, drifting to the side, before another egg, slightly bigger, also emerged, identical in every way to the last. Both of these eggs, these capsules, then floated over to the mighty oak, placing themselves gently beneath the shade of it's shuddering branches.

The rainbow window into the Primordial Sea rippled slightly, the colours washing away to show only a massive golden orb, one bisected vertically by a thin line. The power in the air increased by an order of magnitude, so powerful and overwhelming as to freeze the previously quivering surroundings in place, as if a massive weight was settled on them, rendering them unable to even shift.

Even the earth knew that something was present, a power beyond imagining.

The orb, that massive eye, looked at the two golden eggs, inspecting them. Then the slitted pupil narrowed slightly, a pulse of focused power released. The eggs, pulsed, rippled and then began to fade, slowly revealing the contents within, resting them beneath the oaken branches.

The massive eye seemed to gleam with excitement and humour and interest as it observed the resting couple, one a king and a knight, the other a sword made flesh.

It eagerly awaited the chaos the very _existence_ of these two would stir up.

After a time, merely a moment, the eye began to with draw, fading away, along with the portal. The power in the air also began to dissipate, the source of it moving away. Before the eye finally disappeared, words were heard, ones that echoed around the world, from city to country, rising to the sky and diving beneath the seas, to beggar and king, to warrior and priest, to man and beast, to the Heavens above and the Underworld below. The words were heard, spoken in a voice deeper than the depths of the Abyss and yet soft as a cat's footstep.

"**Long Live The Kings.**"

The words were carried on the wind even as the portal into the Dimensional Gap vanished.

* * *

"**Long Live The Kings.**"

Upon a throne in Heaven, a blonde haired head, topped with a halo, shot up as he heard those words. His green eyes, sharp yet gentle, looked around for the source.

He saw nothing.

He stood up from his throne, one that had once been held by his Father, and slowly walked down the steps leading to the main floor of the massive, if otherwise empty, chamber, his foot falls echoing off of the massive pillars.

He frowned as his extraordinary sense of the supernatural could feel little, only the fading trace of power. He focused on it slightly, trying to read further into it, to determine the source of it, before it could completely vanish into the ether.

Emerald eyes widened and his golden glowing wings, all twelve of them, flared in shock.

"What in Father's name?" Whispered out Michael, one who had taken the place of his Father after he fell in the Great War, surprised.

He recovered quickly, sending out a call for his sister. They would have to work fast on this.

It wasn't everyday that the Dragon of Dragons came calling.

* * *

"**Long Live The Kings."**

In a lab in the Underworld, a man bolted out of his sleep next to a computer. His great black wings, all twelve of them resembling a massive raven's, the feathers darker than the blackness of space itself, flaring open.

"What the hell?!" He cried out, before swiftly doubling over with a groan, putting his goateed face between his legs to stop his head from swimming.

"Ooooh boy," he breathed softly, wincing at the words, "that's the last time I have a tequila shot contest with Vali." He groaned more as he stood straight back up, his bloodshot purple eyes looking around blearily. "Looks like I made it back home, at least."

_Beep! Beep!_

He winced again at the sound as it seemed to stab through his head like an ice pick. He hissed nasty expletives as stumbled toward the source, a small monitor in the corner of the untidy lab, stepping around various knick knacks and half finished projects that had obviously tumbled to the floor in the wake of his drunken entrance the night before.  
"What now?" He growled lowly as he finally stopped before the screen, squinting to read the contents that were flashing on it.

A heartbeat passed as his eyes scanned it before the contents finally hit him.

The Fallen's purple eyes shot wide in shock, "Impossible!" He said hoarsely, dropping quickly down into the seat and tapping away furiously, trying to determine the truth of the matter and it's source.

Whether it be a false alarm or not, the information that flashed on Azazel's screen would be something that would tilt the delicate balance of power between the Factions.

At the top of the screen, above a line of scrolling numbers and text, flashed three words that made Azazel ignored his dress and headache.

TRUE EXCALIBUR DETECTED.

* * *

**"Long Live The Kings."**

A red-haired man, a grown yet youthful looking one, looked up sharply, blue-green eyes looking around his office warily. He could have sworn he heard something, like a voice in his ear. Yet he felt nothing, sensed nothing.

Perhaps he was going mad? It wouldn't surprise him if he was, the paperwork alone in his lofty position was enough to drive most around the bend.

_Knock! Knock!_

A firm tapping was heard on the oak door that lead into his office.

"Enter!" He called, putting the voice out of his mind. It was probably nothing. He would just get an earlier night tonight.

The door was swiftly opened to admit something that made him want to break down and cry.

"More reports to go over, Lucifer-sama," a statuesque silverette wearing a maid outfit stated calmly as she held a pile of papers easily two feet thick. Each of which would have to be read over, thought about, hand signed and then magically stamped.

Sirzechs Lucifer, Super-Devil and one of the four Satans, wanted nothing more than to commit suicide at that moment.

"Grayfia-chan!" He sobbed and wailed, like a big child. He didn't care if it was undignified. He was only halfway through the initial pile in his inbox from this morning, he didn't need more! "Why do you do this?!"

The maid, the man's wife, was unmoved. She simply placed the stack of paperwork on his desk before reaching out and pinching the whining man's cheek firmly.

"Have more decorum, Sirzechs-sama," the maid said coldly, ignoring the flailing of the foolish man she had married. Sometime she felt like she was his keeper rather than his partner in matrimony. "A devil of your standing should be more dignified. As a Satan, you represent the face of the Devil Faction. To demean yourself in such a manner is to demea..."

**_BAM!_**

Her speech was interrupted by the door of the office slamming open. The cause being a panting and sweating young devil, one that the maid recognised slightly as one of the new recruits in the governing body. Specifically, one that was under the jurisdiction of Falbium Asmodeus, who was in charge of military affairs.

"Lucifer-sama!" The young devil panted, heaving deep breaths of air into his lungs, obviously having sprinted full out to get to the office. It would have been easier and quicker to have a teleportation point in the office but Sirzech's had decided not to for security reasons. "Grave news!"

Sirzechs quickly detached himself from his wife, losing the air of silliness as he caught the seriousness of situation, and quickly moved to the side of the panting and heaving young devil, supporting him into a seat in front of his desk.

"Take a breath, kid," he quickly assured the young devil, "the news can wait a bit until you get your breath back. Grayfia," he said as he turned to his wife while he grabbed an empty wine glass from his desk without looking, holding it out to the silver haired beauty, "some water, if you would?"

Wordlessly, and with a bare surge of power, water appeared out of the air before her upraised palm, arcing into the glass until it was full. Sirzechs swiftly presented it to the younger devil, who swallowed it greedily, drinking deep so as to ease the stitch in his side and wet his dry throat and ease his harsh breathing.

"Take a moment to collect your thoughts and relax," he said, soothing the young devil, a young Dantalion by the rather androgynous features and slim build, one of the remaining Pillar families. They were noted to have the ability to shapeshift, taking on the appearance of another. It was also rumoured that the more powerful and talented on the clan were able to change their thought patterns of the person they took the appearance of, making them flawless infiltration specialists. They had been a great help during the Devil Civil War when they had joined the Anti-Satan Faction.

The glass was swiftly emptied and placed back on the desk by the youth, even as his hands trembled slightly, still geared up and full of adrenaline from the running he had just done.

"My apologies, Lord Lucifer," he said, haltingly as he caught his breath.

"It's fine," the Satan said, waving off the apology, "it sounds like you have urgent news anyway."

"Yes, sir," the kid said nodding, "news just came through from one of the monitoring stations in the mortal realm," he breathed deeply, steadying himself, "Sensors indicate that a portal was opened from the Dimensional Gap."

Sirzechs lifted an eyebrow intrigue. That was a surprise. The Dimensional Gap was generally avoided by most knowledgable beings, due to it's alien environment, that could quickly kill even a high ranked devil if they stayed there long enough, and the current resident, a rather belligerent and massive red dragon that had no known equal in power to the best of his knowledge. The fact that a portal was opened, which was not a natural occurence, meant someone or something was playing games. Still, in itself, that wasn't cause for concern, especially not to the point of what this kid was implying, though it would be something that he would see delved into.

Prevention is often better than a cure, after all.

The youth's face was now looking up into Sirzechs' face, pale and slightly scared. "Further scanning showed that the cause of the portal was by a being with a draconic signature."

Sirzechs didn't move, just listening to the boy, even as he heard his wife shift subtly in surprise. There was really only one draconic being who could freely mess with the walls of reality that separated the material world from the chaotic abyss that was the Gap.

The Dantalion scion went on.

"The sensors also picked up two more signatures, powerful ones, maybe as much as High Ranked devil, though the interference from the initial source of power had clouded the readings and thus made it only an estimate."

Sirzechs simply kept listening, kept looking at the boy, taking everything in. He would think about it all when he _had_ it all.

"Despite the veiling from the powerful draconic source, we were able to pick out one aura enough to cross reference with our database for a possible match."

Sirzechs nodded understanding, not saying a word. It was a good move and standard procedure. Auras could tell a lot about a person. Strengths, weaknesses, dreams. In those with Hero blood, a talented aura reader could also read the lineage of a Hero descendant and what one they were descended from if they had a sample of the Ancestor's aura or had encountered the Ancestor before. The Longinus Sephiroth Grail, was reputed to be an artifact that was able to something similar.

The Underworld had a complete store of crystals, each one them contains a recording of a particular person or beings aura, friend, enemy, ally or merely someone of interest, which can be compared to current recordings. It was standard procedure when meeting new beings of note to scan and compare them, so as to get a possible insight into how they worked or thought. Something that would give the devils an edge in any conflict against said beings. Whether it be at the bargaining table or on the battlefield.

Devils are nothing if not crafty.

"We received two matches." The kid went on, and the pale face and swaying body told the Crimson Satan that he may not like the eventual answer.

"One was a 100% match, an exact match, to the recorded aura."

Sirzechs frowned deeper. An exact match? That meant it was one of more current recordings among humans or one of the long lived species. An old enemy making a move maybe?

"We reran the test three more times, just to make sure." Eyes looked up into his, pale and shocked, "we still could barely believe it."

Sirzechs said nothing, only nodding for the boy to go on.

"The original record was made during the Great War, before the Truce was declared, from a human."

Sirzechs' eyes were wide now. A human living that long?! Impossible. Even if they had managed to live that long, it wouldn't be as a human, thus the aura match would not be an exact one. The Satan had sinking feeling in his guts.

"Who?" The Satan asked intently. He faintly heard his wife lean forward in interest.

The boy looked at him again, the eyes were scared now, as if a child had found out that there really were monsters under the bed. The boy's lips moved and it took everything the Super Devil had to keep from reeling in shock.

"Arthur Pendragon. The King of Camelot."

The former heir of Gremory barely heard his wife's gasp of shock, the news able to break even her ice cold facade. He wasn't much better, feeling like his world had been turned upside down. This was big, big news. Big grave news, just as the kid had said.

But he knew that the news wasn't over yet.

Sirzechs shoved away his thoughts on that name and quickly asked the boy. "You said there were two matches. What was the other one?"

Sirzechs knew that the bombs had stopped coming she that already pale face became almost transparent, like a ghost.

"The second one was a partial match due to a contamination with an energy that we are unsure of," stuttered the kid as he tried to compose himself, "but it was over 75% even through that interference."

Sirzechs only nodded. That sounded a bit palatable. Though he couldn't help but feel on edge. The kid's reactions weren't giving him any real assurance at the moment.

"Oddly enough, it was mingled with aura of the one tentatively identified with the King, yet they were separate enough that it didn't taint the King's aura, somehow." The kid looked faintly puzzled before quickly shaking it off an face of fear that knocked his previous one down to last place.

"The second aura matched that of Ddraig. The Welsh Dragon."

This time Sirzechs really _was_ reeling in shock. His agile mind could only come to one conclusion, one that he really didn't like, that signalled a great deal of trouble on the horizon. He fell on his arse, staring blankly into space, even as he absently heard his wife stumble backward in complete shock and the form of the young Dantalion slump in the seat, passed out or fainted, as the kid's overloaded mind finally decided to catch up with itself and shut down.

He quickly snapped out of it. Now wasn't the time to be shocked. Now was the time to act, to start looking into things. Now was the time for the Satan Lucifer to come out and play and for Sirzechs Gremory to go to sleep for a while.

"Grayfia!" He snapped to his wife, breaking her out of her own shocked state, "send a message to all the Satans. Tell them that an emergency meeting is required, post haste. If they're all not at the meeting room in half an hour, _at the most_, tell them I will personally march into their homes and drag them there, kicking and screaming if I must. Do you understand your orders?"

"Yes, Lucifer-sama," The former Lucifuge said with a quick nod as she gathered her faculties once more. "I will do so immediately." She quickly turned and made for the door to carry out her orders. Lucifer thought he could faintly see a small flush on the woman's cheeks and thought his nose must be acting up due to the sudden sweet scent that he could smell.

He tucked that away for further thought at a later time.

"Get Serafall first!" He called down the corridor before she vanished from sight, sprinting towards the nearest teleportation point.

Meanwhile, he quickly sprinted towards the Sensor Division, aiming to get a hold of the recordings himself. He would get Ajuka to check them out and verify them at the meeting. Hopefully, this was a false alarm and the signals people got their wires crossed of something.

If not...

Well, he really didn't like the odds of the Underworld facing one of the greatest, if not the greatest, humans to have ever lifted a blade now with the power of Boosted Gear at his side.

* * *

"**Long Live The Kings**."

All around the world, near and far, these words were heard in the ears of the powerful, the influential, the saints and the sinners.

A little girl in a black dress, with eyes as empty as the abyss, staring into infinity, looked into the sky with a frown.

A devil on his throne in the Underworld smirked wickedly, wondering what chaos had now befallen the world. His high pitched laughter rang out in the castle, even as he held a jewelled chalice, a goblet, a cup, a Grail, in his hand.

A young Hero leant on his spear, one who's goals consisted of genocide and annihilation, frowned to himself. What did this mean?

A bespectacled blonde young man, wearing a business suit and a sword at his side, was hit heavily by these carried words. His younger sister, dressed as a sorceress, was not much better.

All around the world, the noteworthy and worthless, all heard these words. A herald's call for the new age that dawned.

All the while, the couple under the oak tree slept on.

"**Long Live The Kings."**

* * *

Well folks, how did you like it? This may just take the place of 'On Steel Wings'. Let me know what you like and hate about it if you can. Reviews can only make the quality of my stories better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Knights and Swords**

**I do not own Fate/Stay Night or High School DxD**

**Chapter 1: The Edge of a Sword**

Shirou groaned heavily as he began to awaken from his slumber, the incessant shrill beeping of his alarm clock beckoning him to arise from his bed and join the waking world.

A golden eye cracked open to stare blearily at the digital clock, a hand having already pressed the correct button to end the clamour. It's bright green digits shone like a torch in the darkness of the room, making it easily read.

Two O'clock.

_In the morning_.

He groaned again. The hours he had to keep for his job were ridiculous.

But needs must when the devil drives. Or when you have a practically empty wallet.

He shrugged inwardly, tearing the covers off of himself and rising, being careful not to take the blanket and sheets off of his bed partner as he did so, his bare feet reflexively flinching as they came into contact with the cold varnished floor.

" 'sniroo~," he heard the faint whining sound of his partner say, muffled by the comfortable pillow her face was buried in, her golden hair draping over her face, leaving only a slice of emerald to be seen behind that veil, "whuh-?"

"Go back to sleep, Saber," he said gently, refraining, barely, from reaching out to stroke her hair, a favourite pastime of his when they were both in bed, "I'm just getting ready to go to work."

Giving in to a little of his desire, he leaned over to peck his beloved on the forehead quickly, his lips brushing the mess of golden locks, before rising out of bed completely to ready himself for the day.

He heard the half-hearted and annoyed grumbles from the bed even as he made his way into the small bathroom of the cosy (read: small) apartment.

Snapping on the light and quickly darting into the shower stall after stripping off his boxers, the only sleepwear he wore, he quickly turned on the water, hissing at the first blast of freezing cold water as it struck his scarred chest, before it slowly began to heat up, warming him up as a counterpoint to the weather that he knew was unwelcoming outside.

He closed his eyes, relaxing as the warmth soaked into his muscles, making them loosen and more flexible, his thoughts wandering into introspection, the trials and tribulations of the past, and the current circumstances that he and Saber (much to his heartfelt joy. He hadn't wanted to let her go, to let her fade, not in his heart of hearts) now found themselves in.

It was just over a month since he and Saber had woken up, confused and disorientated, him more so than her, in that field, beneath that tree.

In a land that was far away from where they had been previously facing down the manifestation of the tainted Grail.

If only they had known how true that statement was.

**Flashback Start**

When the young magus had opened his eyes for the first time in that field, confusion had run rampant in his mind. Where was he? What had happened?

However, those questions had paled into insignificance in the face of the final one:

_Was Saber alright?_

He had quickly verified that Saber was there, somehow, in someway, not having disappeared or faded back to the Throne, resting beside him beneath the large tree. He had ceased breathing for a moment, drinking in her responding features, devouring her with his eyes, making sure she wasn't an illusion or hallucination of desperate hope, his hand reaching to touch her, to make sure she was real.

Any doubt about that was erased when her gauntleted hand shot up to grab his reaching appendage and _pulled_.

Pinning his face and body into the rough bark of the tree even as the extended arm was now locked behind his back and demands were said, which stopped just as quickly when she realised what she had done and, more importantly, who she did it to.

He couldn't blame her at all for what she did, such ingrained instincts had saved her life, and his, more than a few times in the past.

But he swore he still tasted splinters from that greeting to this day.

Thankfully, the taste of the ancient oak on his tongue was only brief, the King of Knights releasing him from the grip she had on him almost instantly, allowing him to step back, spitting chips of rough bark.

Strangely, despite the discomfort, he was surprised that the resulting reaction to his movements wasn't more painful for him. In fact, there seemed to be no pain at all, just uncomfortable and leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

Not to mention the strength of Saber's grip, something he had personally seen crush steel like it was tin foil. Despite the tight grasp, his bones had not been turned to powder as they should have been, only seemingly held firmly and tightly.

Yet he somehow knew she hadn't held back as much to prevent that in a normal mortal like him.

It was in that brief moment that he knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Master!" He heard Saber cry, her voice surprised, shocked and apologetic. He could understand well her dismay. A warrior born, her reflexes were deadly and implacable, a necessity for someone who's reign as King involved moving from battlefield to battlefield without end. In a war, they would be lauded and appreciated, a skill and trait that was necessary for survival in those turbulent times.

In the modern era, the digital age, however...

"I'm fine, Saber," he assured her, trying to make her relax, rolling his wrists and arms, clenching his muscles, in a subtle way, something that did the human comparison to a computer's system diagnostic.

All systems were green and ready to go, lacking even the exhaustion and lactic acid built up that he should have due to the fighting and contact with that vaporous black mud, the actual make up of the supposed Holy Grail, that the fake priest, Kirei Kotomine, had used against him. Even the strain he had put on his arm when he had punched the Azoth dagger into the priest's chest was gone.

"Better than fine," he murmured under his breath, his golden eyes narrowed in thought as he inspected the lightly tanned and corded muscled flesh. It looked almost the same to his regular skin, the same colour, the same texture, but there was something about, a feeling he had that wouldn't go away, that something was different, hidden beneath the surface.

He could feel the emerald eyes that he so loved meticulously eye him, scanning him for any deceit or hidden injury. "I see." The quiet words were firm, if puzzled, as if acknowledging his current state but not understanding how it came to be.

"Do you know what happened?" Asked Shirou, getting his mind back on track, he could figure out what was different about him later, right now, figuring out what in the name of all things in this world had happened was more important. "All I remember is you bisecting the Grail before something went wrong and we were both engulfed by it." He frowned more, trying to organise thoughts that were oddly slow at the moment, as if his mind was working against a current in his river of thoughts, or trudging through tar and sludge, each step weighing heavier, holding him down.

The throbbing headache, one that seemed, to him, to be the Grandmother of every other one, that was currently pounding in his head wasn't helping matters at all. He was thankful for the pain he endured in the past. Without experiencing it, he would have been able to do little more than feebly whimper on the ground.

No pain, no gain, as they say.

"That is all that I know as well," Saber said with a nod, a frown on her noble features as she looked around, "this place...it seems...almost familiar to me." She looked confused.

Shirou looked around himself. They were both certainly somewhere different than they had been before. The rolling grass covered hills, interspersed with with lone tall trees, was about him. The sun was high in the sky, about mid-morning if he had to guess, which was very different from the tip of dawn that he last remembered seeing.

This was not the type of terrain that was typical of his homeland.

Somehow, he didn't think he was in Fuyuki, that he wasn't in Japan, anymore.

"...This isn't good," he said flatly, not seeing any sign of habitation or human life about.

To sum up their situation, they were in the middle of nowhere, not knowing where they are, and had no clear signs that would point to the nearest population centre, after having been through a trying ordeal without equal. They also didn't know how they had arrived at this spot, which was of concern, or who or what had done so.

Yes, this current situation they were was most definitely 'not good'.

"**_I disagree._**"

A warped, yet melodious, voice was suddenly heard, distinctly female despite the vocal distortion and seemed subtly amused.

He reacted in an instant.

He spun towards the source of the voice, heard from above in the branches of the oak, his suddenly filled with blades with but a thought, oddly coming to him faster than they normally would have, as if they were only waiting to be called. His body instinctively shifted into a battle stance, one that seemed both intimately familiar and strangely alien, both swords held horizontally across his chest, the flat of the blades facing him and his opponent.

He heard the clank of steel on steel as Saber also readied herself, clasping the veiled Excalibur in her metal gauntleted hands, her form also spinning towards the origin of the voice.

The sight which greeted them was far from what they were expecting.

"**_You two are a looooooong~ way from home_**," the being said, lounging it's semi-transparent quadrupedal body on one of the stouter branches of the ancient oak, amusement gleaming in it's, or rather her, golden slitted eyes, a match for Shirou's own.

It was about the size of a great cat, like a tiger or a lion, and her body was just as lithe and powerful as those incredible animals. Similar limbs and shape, except that instead of thick or silky fur, gleaming scales coated her instead, a dark emerald green that bordered on black, looking like nothing more than iridescent metallic snake skin.

She differed greatly from a simple great cat from there on.

About where her rib cage met the shoulders, massive black feathered wings expanded, tuck up and folded away at that moment but still present. If her words hadn't given her away as unusual, then the wings would have. Her neck was also long, extending out like a serpent's and seemed just as supple and flexible. The face was more unique, looking like an alien mix of human and scaled feline, except with a longer muzzle, that strangely seemed almost natural, beautiful even, and suitable rather than horrible and ugly. An effect that took some doing. She also had a long mane of dark hair running down the length of her neck like a horse. They had no right being on any animal born of the natural earth.

That left only a single possibility that Shirou could possibly think of on what this being was.

A Phantasmal Beast. A catch all term for a non-human being, or existence, that deviated from the rules of nature and biology, beasts and creatures who once roamed the World during the Age of the Gods. Myths and legends of their existence had been told again and again through out the ages. The Griffin of Ancient Greece, the Roc of Persia, the Kappa of Japan. Unicorns, the Cretan Bull, the Kraken and so many more were counted among their number. Often they were part of a Quest of a Hero, allowing those men and women to ascend to the Throne for defeating these powerful beings. Ever since the decline of Magic though, it was almost unheard of to see one, such was their rarity. It was considered a miracle in itself to even see one.

And he was now staring one in the face.

Shirou wasn't sure if he should be staring in utter awe or piss his pants in fright. He didn't know the exact nature of this one, it seemed to by a mish mash of various terrestrial beasts like many of the more ancient Beasts, but he knew beings such as this only got stronger as time passed, potentially embodying a True Magic in strength should they exist long enough. He was definitely outgunned at the moment, even with Saber at his side.

Speaking of the King...

"Identify yourself!" The smaller King of Knights demanded, her face hard as stone and her determination harder than diamond as she took a step forward, her Invisible Air brandished in a threatening manner. He knew that she would do whatever she could to ensure he would not come to harm.

He wasn't the most prideful or arrogant of people, thinking that he could do everything himself and not need the help of others, and accepted aid from others when it was necessary and in over his head, even if he didn't like inconveniencing others with his own troubles, but he could still stand his own ground, even in the face of great, impossible, odds.

So it still niggled at him, despite his acknowledgement of Saber's superior ability, that he needed to be protected in her eyes.

It made him feel somewhat less of a man.

"**_Relax, King of Knights,_**" the strange beast said with amusement, her face surprising expressive as she showed the razor sharp teeth in her muzzle, seeming to grin, "**_I mean you and the young man no harm,_**" her scaled brow seemed to scrunch together, like a small frown or in deep thought, her fangs disappearing behind her lips again, "**_not that I can hurt your former Master anyway."_**

_Former Master_?

The words shot through him like a bullet through tissue paper and had him desperately delving into his Magical Circuits, looking for that link that was always between them, even with how weak it had been in the beginning when he had botched her summoning. Despite this frantic soul searching, his hands never wavered in their hold on the pair of swords, Chinese falchions of opposing colours, one a deep black of the abyss and one the pristine white of fallen snow, the names Kanshou and Bakuya whispered in his mind, his arms stayed solid in their positions and his golden eyes kept their gaze fixed upon the strange beast.

With his circuits already active, maintaining the existence of the naked blades he bore, it was almost easy to delve into them, inspect them, like he had done it a thousand times before.

Except he hadn't.

And what he saw in the depths of his soul, within his connections to the astral realm, had him more confused than ever, bordering on scared.

_Power_.

That was the first thing he felt as he touched his circuits. A feeling that he had never truly associated with himself. Even when Rin had managed to unlock his proper circuits for him to use instead of the borderline suicidal method of cannibalising his nerves to create a weak and temporary one, he had never felt the raw power they now displayed. His power could have been compared to a small and shallow brook or stream before, running over small pebbles to babble endlessly. Relatively easy to access, when he had known how, but small and finite, easily able to be depleted and influenced by other sources.

Now though, it surged and roared like Niagra Falls in the Americas, practically bursting at the seams to surge forth into the world, pushing against the container that was his body, saturating it with power. It was also deep, almost bottomless compared to his previous small well.

And his circuits...

They felt...cleaner, more pure and right. It was like he had been a car, running on only three cylinders, able to go and move but never able to use his full potential, hampered by an old injury. But now it was like they had just been given a full service, was now completely healed from the atrophy they had been put through as a result of his own misunderstanding of magecraft.

All twenty-seven of them.

But there was something beyond that, something that radiated power on a level he had only ever seen and felt once before. Something that beat like a heart, pulsing power through his veins.

And even beyond that pounding heart, he could something else, something he had nothing to compare to.

But these things were for another time, when he wasn't facing a Beast of myth, when he wasn't so concerned that Saber would disappear before his very eyes, lacking an anchor to the physical world and this time.

He searched for the metaphysical cord that tied he and Saber together, that should have been severed, erased and vanished, along with the destruction of the Grail.

Only to find nothing.

His went still and pale, his heart in his throat in grief and sorrow and anger.

The tie that had seen both of them through thick and thin, a bond that had survived hardship, pain, agony and the hell that is the battlefield was gone, not even a trace of it left. It was like someone had cut off his hand, torn out his heart, and he had only just realised it.

"What did you do?" he growled in anger at the Beast that had now risen to it's paws, it's lithe tail swinging like a metronome as it crouched on that branch. He could still see the leaves of the oak's higher branches through her body. Was it perhaps a Beast that could be likened to spirits? Able to affect spiritual bodies?

That thought paled in comparison to the anger he felt at the link he had with Saber being destroyed, even if he had used the last Command Seal to empower her to defeat and destroy the Grail. There should have been at least a fragment of something left over in his circuits, a fragment he would have treasured for the rest of his days.

But there was apparently nothing there now.

"**_I did nothing_**," the being said calmly, the light of amusement still in her golden eyes as she looked at their discomfort and trepidation with sly pleasure, watching them squirm.

"Saber," Shirou said, looking at her slightly while keeping an eye on the beast.

"I am fine, Shirou," she answered shortly, never turning around or taking her eyes off of the Beast before them.

"**_As you should be_**," the Beast said with a regal nod, "**_things have changed. You both were changed. Are you willing to hear how? Or will you continue to bear steel at someone who has done no harm?"_**

Shirou narrowed his eyes up at the Beast. She knew something, something about this convoluted situation they now found themselves in. They needed information.

Reluctantly, he released his hold on the blades he had Traced, allowing them to fracture into motes of prana. He didn't really have a choice, not at this moment. He saw Saber hesitate, as if she was unwilling to remove a form of her defence, to leave herself vulnerable to this being that was before them, unknowing if this whole scenario was a mere trick to lower their guards. But she also put up her sword, glaring up at the Beast as she did so, warning the Beast against any type of trickery.

"**_Thank you_**," the Beast said with a smile, "**_now proper introductions can begin._**"

With lithe grace, the beast leapt from the branch it crouched on and floated slowly to the ground, as if her downward leap was put into slow motion, and landing on the grass, not making a single sound.

Nor bend a single blade of grass, Shirou was quick to notice. In fact, the grass blades seemed to go through the paw, as if the Beast before was little more than an illusion.

**_"I know who you both are_**," she said, looking at Shirou, "**_Shirou Emiya, former Master of Sabe_**r," then at Saber, "**_Arturia Pendragon, King of Knights and wielder of Excalibur_**," she craned her neck back, making an 'S' shape that let her see both of them at once and bearing an odd marking where the serpentine neck met the chest, looking something like an asterisk or a stylised sun with eight points, like a compass. "**_But you are unlikely to know of me._**" The muzzle seemed to grin again, **_"I am Anzu, the Usurper Dragon,_**" she seemed to grin as both Saber and Shirou rocked back on their feet, shocked to be in the presence of such a being. A Phantasmal Beast, of any rank, was a miracle to be seen. To see and speak to one of Dragon-Kind, those beings who generated Prana simply by breathing and existing, who were reputed to have completely disappeared from the world during the decline of Magic, was a whole other level.

**_"And I am to be your guide in this new world."_**

**Flashback End**

_Knock, knock_.

The noise jarred Shirou out of his thoughts, bringing him back to reality.

"Shirou, are you getting out?" He heard Saber call softly, keeping her voice down so as not to disturb the neighbouring apartments through the thin walls.

"A moment," he answered over the hot rain of the shower, even as he swiftly turned off the knobs and plucked up a towel, quickly rubbing himself dry and throwing on a pair of nightwear for such an occasion.

Opening the bathroom door, he was greeted by a stoic looking Saber, her hair still mussed from sleep but now more aware.

Seems she didn't want to go back to sleep after all.

Even as mussed as she was, she still held an air of beauty and majesty about her, making him smile at her. He thanked the Heavens above that he could still wake up to see that face every morning.

"I'll make breakfast," he said softly as he passed, his fingers gliding along her bare arm, making her shiver, not in cold, but in delight.

"Eggs if you can," she requested as she passed him, ready to take her own shower and other ablutions, her long golden-blonde hair no longer in it's normal braid.

He moved down the still dark hall, almost immediately stepping into the lounge/dining/kitchen combination of the small apartment. Their home.

"**_Took you long enough_**," a familiar warped yet melodious voice said from the couch, the scaled felinoid head of Anzu craning over the back of the comfortable seat, her golden eyes glowing in the dim light, amusement and slight mockery dancing in them, "**_I almost thought you had drowned."_**

"I was lost in my thoughts," explained the Sword Incarnation, as he swiftly drew out the necessary equipment and ingredients to make a decent breakfast for himself and Saber, "and what are you doing outside the Gear anyway?" Shirou glanced over his shoulder, looking at the ancient dragon in slight worry for the friendly being. "I thought it was difficult for you to Project yourself out of it due to the power necessary?"

"**_It is difficult_**," the dragon admitted, "_**but it is not **that** difficult. Beside**_**s**," the dragon sighed heavily, "**_do you have any idea how boring in can get in that thing? Nothing but the same steel walls, day after day, to stare at, until you wake up and I can perceive the world through your senses."_** The old dragoness growled lightly, a bright blue light burning behind her sharp fangs, "**_even if I cannot affect anything in the real world in this form, at least I am not completely dependent on you to see the world_**." The draconic face frowned, ruffling her feathered wings in irritation, "**_I did not accept a second chance at life from Great Red just to be chained like a beast for an eternity."_**

"I've offered to let you out," Shirou pointed out, talking and cooking at the same time with ease, a skill brought about from years of practice, "just because the Great Red wanted some entertainment, doesn't mean you need follow his every word out of a false sense of duty."

"**_I gave my word,_**" Anzu said, sounding affronted, letting Shirou know he had really stepped in it, "**_in return for the Red Pain In The Ass returning me to life, I was to submit myself to be bound and sealed within a Sacred Gear for the span of it's recipient's lifetime. I will never renege on my word, even with your insistence on freeing me. Even if you choose not to use the Gear, to cast it away, I would still be bound and sealed within it until the day the hand of death takes you, such is the power of my oath."_**

"Sorry, sorry," he quickly said, hands, which were occupied by a pan and a spatula respectively, extended in a placating manner, his brow invisibly sweating. Anzu was, in his opinion, more dangerous than he had originally thought, especially when she was angered or offended. Not only was she of Dragon-Kind, a species known for their power and their pride, but she was also female, a gender that, in his experience, was both mercurial and unpredictable in their temperament.

It made for a scary combination for any recipients of her ire.

"**_See that you are,_**" the dragoness snorted in disdain, her Projection passing through the couch like a ghost and floating over to him as he turned back to quickly making breakfast, Western style, to float above the island bench that separated the kitchen from the dining room, **_"it would behoove you not to insult your guide and partner in this world in the future. The results may not be to your liking_**."

With those ominous words, the Projection of the Usurper Dragon flickered like a badly tuned TV before vanishing, her consciousness returning to the confines of the Sacred Gear that held her.

Shirou sighed to himself in annoyance. He really needed to learn to keep from putting his foot in his mouth, especially around females. The consequences were not worth living with.

* * *

Saber, also known as Arturia Pendragon, rightful heir to the British Throne and King of Knights, washed swiftly and economically, while also taking pleasure in the sinfully delightful feeling of hot water cleansing her body.

It was a guilty pleasure for her. In her original time, a time of when superstition and the sword ruled, such things as a shower did not exist, let alone a hot one. Bathing was typically rare, especially in the field where she spent most of her time, and even heated water from vast cauldrons over a fire never made bathing the pleasurable time it was to her now.

And the times of the Grail War for which she was summoned were even worse. Not only was Kiritsugu a cold man, but she was seen as a mere weapon, a tool, and did not have time for trivialities of such things. Even if she could have, the fact that she was summoned as a Servant would have prevented her dwelling in such pleasure.

Whenever she had been summoned, her spirit projected into the future through her contract with the World, the World have placed her into a Servant container, albeit one that was more real than that of the other Servants. Servants were, in essence, spiritual beings able to take corporeal form. Despite this, they were still spiritual and thus the physical world didn't react to them as it should.

As a Servant, she had always felt like her touch was muffled, as if feeling everything through a veil of gauze or silk, distant from this plane of existence.

With the reintegration of her soul to her body however...

It had been quite the shock for her to learn of this.

**Flashback**

"How is this possible?" Arturia whispered in incredulity, disbelief running rampant across her visage, followed closely by shock, as she stared at the small Dragon standing before her. Beside her, Shirou, her Master- _former Master_- looked just as shocked as she did, but there was a gleam of hope there also, as if his dream come true was right in front of him, within reach.

It was a great shock to hear that she was now human once more, no longer under the contract with the World, no longer linked to the Throne, and able to live her life. It may not be what she had initially wanted, what she had fought for in the Grail Wars, a chance to relive her life in the past, to never have taken up Caliburn, but her experiences with Shirou had changed that, changed her.

It was an...interesting prospect to say the least.

And it had come about because of a Dragon that, if the smaller specimen was to be believed, possessed unrivalled power was interested and intrigued in her and Shirou both.

She wasn't sure what she should feel about that. On one hand, it seemed that she had a new lease on life, without the burdens of Kingship, a chance to live a real life, to be human again like she was before she had pulled the sword from the stone. The small Dragon, Anzu, had made it clear that whatever this Great Red had done was irreversible, at least to her knowledge. No chance to return to the world that she had been born, lived on and been fatally wounded on, no longer bound by the Contract she had foolishly made. What she had at this moment, her life, her body, her skills, were all that she had. It was up to her to make something of herself, to carve her own path without the benefit/curse of being a King.

On the other hand, this opportunity, this new chance, was a result of a meddling Dragon that no doubt wanted to stir the pot a little. Little bugs for it to observe as they scurried around, making waves wherever she and Shirou went, and that was without taking into account the changes that it had made to them. And that they were in a completely different world.

It was Merlin all over again. Damn that old man.

"**_Many are the Mysteries of the world_**," the small Dragon spoke with a slight grin, the human-like expression looking almost ridiculous on the face of the ancient Beast, "**_the Great Red is merely one of them...and the most unpredictable and powerful of them all."_**

Saber restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Of course their damned saviour had to have a few bricks short of a full load, be the joker in the deck.

This place felt like Camelot already. The old cambion really knew how to stir up trouble.

"What can you tell us?" Saber enquired bluntly, relaxing a little in slight weariness as she looked at the small draconic being. It was best to be bluntly honest in these types of situations, to make your stance clear and simple. The less misunderstandings, the better. "About this new world? About what has happened to us? Who are the ones that hold the power here? Their strengths and weaknesses? What does this Great Red want from us?"

The flow of questions seemed made the Dragon step back a bit, slightly disconcerted, not having expected the questions to come so fast and hard from the former King of the Britons.

"Saber," she heard Shirou say, his warm calloused hand gently grasping her armoured shoulder in order to calm her, the heat of his hand somehow going straight through the enchanted metal and touching her skin, making her want to shudder slightly in pleasure.

Dear Lord, there was something about his touch that seemed to set her aflame, to make heart beat just that little faster, pound that little bit harder as her skin flushed slightly.

Heaven's above, she had almost forgotten what it had meant to have a human body, to feel the surge of emotions in the blood that pumped through her veins. It was intense. It was invigorating.

It was a reminder of what her life had now become.

_Human_.

As she took a deep breath, trying to relax rather than be stressed, a rumbling chuckle was heard from the Dragon, her eyes more amused than ever.

"**_Quite the verbose and demanding little mortal, aren't you?_**" Anzu smirked, bearing her fangs in a draconic grin, "**_As expected of a Ruler, former or otherwise._**"

"Anzu-san," Shirou said respectfully, yet slightly reproachfully, "please..."

The dragoness sighed, slightly mournful, "**_Fine, fine_**," she grumbled, dipping her head, "**_ruin the first fun I have had in millennia, why don't you?"_**

The Usurper dragon, as she had called herself, coughed slightly, raising her neck high and laying a taloned paw over the once more revealed marking, as if she were swearing an oath or speaking of subjects with great sincerity and importance.

"**_Please, take a seat,_**" she requested, gesturing to the grassy ground, "**_this will take quite some time."_**

Sensing no malice or deceit, Shirou calmly rested on the grass, gently pulling Saber down as well, resting against the large oak as they prepared to listen and learn about this new world from a Dragon.

Saber had to shake her head at the complete absurdity of the entire situation. It was unbelievable in her own experience.

The dragoness took a deep breath and began to recite the tale of the World.

"**_Let me begin at the Beginning, the very start, the primordial darkness from which everything was sprung..."_**

The tale told by the dragon proved to be of great interest to the dimensionally displaced duo.

**End Flashback**

Saber emerged from her thoughts, and her shower, and briskly began to towel off.

The revelations about this new world that Shirou and her had received were beyond belief.

The fact that God of the Bible, the Creator and the Almighty, was dead was a big one, but still only a drop in bucket compared to the rest of the bombardment of information.

Divine Spirits still walked the earth. Dragons and Beasts still thrived, to a point. Angels, Fallen and Devils. Gods and Demons of every stripe. Spirits. Artifacts powerful enough to kill Gods born into the hands of mortals, generation after generation.

It was as if the Age of the Gods still existed in this world.

That said, there were differences, major ones, between her home world and this one.

One of them being this Evil Piece Reincarnation attributed to the Devil Faction.

It flew in the face of everything she knew and was taught to her by the old pervert. Resurrection along with a complete change from one spiritual species to another? It gave her the shivers.

The fact that these Devils were, reputedly, not exactly as completely malevolent as they were depicted to be by the church didn't matter, it was still a scary thought. This Peerage system reminded her too much of a blend between magi familiars and the Servant system of the Grail Wars for her to be comfortable.

The thought of devils trawling through the masses of humanity and other beings, looking for the cream of the crop to convert into devils, those who have powerful Sacred Gears, powerful mages, elite warriors, beasts of power (even including Dragons), those with the blood of Heroes in their veins, officially in order to repopulate their decimated species.

To a King who was use to power plays and politics amongst her court, this smelled rotten to her.

Reading between the lines, there had to be more to it than simply resurrecting a being to serve them. There had to be controls, a way for the King devil to enforce their will on their peerage, to ensure loyalty to a point. That there were even cases of coercion and forceful conversion proved this.

One thing that had her very leery was that they only needed the true name, or a name the target bound themselves to, for the ritual to be successful, something that reminded her of the Grail Wars, where knowing the identity of a Servant allowed an adversary have an idea of the strengths and possible weaknesses of the Servant.

She firmly decided to keep her name, her true name, amongst only those she trusted, meaning only her and Shirou at this point, with the dragon Anzu as a possible one, if only because the reptilian Beast was bound to Shirou in a way that had her flummoxed and shocked, and already knew her name and history.

Annoying Great Red.

And hadn't the very idea of the mere existence of such a being sent shivers up her spine.

The Apocalypse Dragon. The Dragon of Dragons. The True Dragon.

All of these were the auspicious titles given to a being that towered over the very Gods themselves in power and might.

And he/it had taken an interest in her and Shirou.

It didn't give her much in the way of comfort.

Having finished drying herself off, she was quickly dressed in a set of clothing. A simple skirt, blouse and sweater combination that served her well, along with a pair of comfortable slippers to protect her feet from the cold floors of the apartment that she and Shirou now resided in.

Her hands brushed the old wooden walls, the worn wallpaper managing to stay on easily, as she stepped into the dining/kitchenette, the aroma of fresh cooked eggs, scrambled, with two slices of toast and heated slices of ham, tickling her nostrils.

The apartment had been a very lucky find for them, especially in the city they currently lived. Relatively cheap, at least in comparison to other apartments, and had come fully furnished, which had been an absolute blessing considering their financial constraints when they had first appeared in this world, and with basic appliances.

It had been a pain to get ahold of, their lack of identification and other things creating a large road block for them both to get around, but they had managed to do it with the rudimentary skills Shirou had in hypnotism, which was aided by the Gear Anzu resided in, thanking the Heavens above that Kiritsugu had insisted on him learning English as well as he could all the while. It had certainly paid off.

Thankfully, Shirou managed to find a link to the local Underground, the world of criminals and thieves, compliments of the rare frank and in-depth discussions he had had Taiga in the past about the Yakuza, shortly after so as to obtain proper false identification and documents so as to firmly establish themselves as real citizens of the United Kingdom and back up the hypnosis.

There had been a very good reason that the place they had entered this world seemed so familiar.

It was this dimension's analogue of Camlann, where she had fallen. The oak had been the one she had rested under, dying, in her home world. She couldn't help but shiver at the thought and yet be drawn to that spot again and again.

She put aside those morbid thoughts with a shake of her head, emerald eyes alighting on the delicious repast her lover had laid out for breakfast, despite the fact it was closer to midnight than dawn or morning.

Shirou was already eating, quickly and neatly devouring his serve of the meal at a fast pace. He barely spared enough time to nod with warm eyes at her before focusing back on his meal. Saber didn't mind what would have been considered rudeness in another time and place, she knew why he did it and agreed with his actions.

Business, or rather work, before pleasure.

She returned the nod with a wordless thanks and devoured her own share, the food and utensils more familiar to her than what had been served in Fuyuki.

This was a frequent occurrence in the apartment for the past fortnight, one that Saber took a unique pleasure in. The scenario of a couple sharing a meal before each of them parted ways for the day was something that she had never experienced as a King.

As she was no longer a King, nor would she take up that mantle again if she could help it, she was able to experience it, to dwell amongst those she had once ruled over, to see the life through their eyes.

She found that she liked this simple life. She had never been overly fond of the extravagancies of her court and castle all those years ago, but it had been expected of her and thus she had fulfilled the role of King as best as she could.

With this new lease on life and a second chance...

_She wasn't going to waste it._

She glanced over at the living room portion of the central area of the apartment, in particular a stand that rested up against the wall, looking at what rested upon it with a wary eye. The soft misty silver light given off by the scabbard caressed her features, even in the gloom of the dark of the morning, it's form seeming to break up, shift and shimmer like the morning mists on the moors, shortening and extending it's length, from anything between a foot and three feet, with great frequency.

Above that, the hilt of the blade contained within that spectral scabbard could be seen. A simple rounded pommel, a set of scarlet leather strips wrapped around the slightly curved hilt, the leather seemingly scaled in the manner typical of some reptilian species, and a simple rounded cross guard. There seemed to nothing special about it, almost completely utilitarian and practical.

Saber, however, knew better than to judge a book by it's cover.

A gift they might have been, much like her own sword and sheath, but she knew not for what purposes these ones were crafted and forged. Where her own gifts were made for Glory and Peace, to bring Order in a world filled with Chaos and Strife, these were far different in nature and yet they would no doubt be used for the same reasons as her own blade had been, in time, though they would perhaps be used in a more focused manner.

Yes, Saber knew that this idyllic existence that she and Shirou currently had was only temporary and would undoubtedly come to an end in time. But until then, she would enjoy this peace and anonymity they currently had, allow herself to feel truly human for the first time in so long.

For when it ended, in what ever manner it did, probably involving either Devils or mages, she had no doubt that this world would be on the edge of sword.

* * *

Shirou swiftly washed up his plate, laying it on the sink to clean properly later that day. His breakfast was finished and now it was time to go to work.

He gave Saber a quick hug in farewell before he left, dressed and ready to work his day away, picking up a set of keys and a small backpack near the door to the apartment, before exiting.

It was something that reminded him of other families, seeing other members safely of to work. The fact that he did this with Saber, could do it with Saber, was something that he never would have imagined could happen.

His ideal of being a 'Super Hero', an ally of Justice, had been tarnished by the events of the Grail War and the dream cycle with Saber, enough that he began to respect and welcome the simpler things in life.

The fact that he had somehow obtained the entirety of the memories of Archer also contributed to this.

He grimaced slightly in remembrance as he swiftly descended the corner stairwell of the apartment building, his boots ringing hollowly in the cold and still air of it, easily able to see where he went with the fluorescent lighting.

Those memories...

They had been so raw, so primal. Scenes of slaughter and destruction, of blood and gore. Burning citadels and countries. Islands becoming wastelands. Slain children and monsters in the same pile of corpses.

All of these caused by someone who could have been him. All because of a single oath in order to save a hundred lives.

There was no comfort, no joy, to be found in those memories. Just endless fields of blood, pain and death, the battlefield at it's worst. EMIYA's dream and desire twisted on itself in the worst possible fashion, a mockery of what it meant to be a hero.

He still woke up at nights, sweating and panting, as he relived those scenes, those horror filled glimpses of humanity's darker nature, in his dreams and nightmares.

When he realised the source of the nightmares, the reason they happened, he had made an oath to himself. To never become that man, become what many others would call a monster, known as EMIYA. He would find another way. A way without the endless slaughter of victim and villain alike.

In his heart of hearts, where the hammer met the anvil in a shower of sparks, he knew he would not be able to escape the battlefield. As a Sword Incarnate, he would be drawn to battle and conflict like a magnet. It was only a matter of time.

It would be up to him how he fought and who he fought however.

And he would do it with skills and abilities of himself and those inherited from EMIYA. Maybe in this new world he could somehow give the counter Guardian some peace, knowing that his skills would most definitely save lives instead of taking them.

Emerging from the entrance hall of the apartment block, he drew in a chilly breath, taking the icy night air into his lungs as he stepped onto the footpath, glancing at the time on his watch laden wrist, focusing more on the present than the ghastly

Two Thirty. Perfect. He had enough time.

He put aside thoughts on the future battles that awaited him, his Origin assured that and the gifts from the Great Red would only draw them closer, and focused for a moment, drawing on the arcane power he wielded as a magus.

The pistol appeared in his mind, the hammer cocked back. Then it fired.

His body surged with prana as his circuits came to life, then it became saturated with prana, the mystical energy surging through his veins to the beat of a spiritual heart as the opening of his circuits triggered a recent addition to his body.

The Usurper Dragon had told him of the various changes the Great Red had made to him, to give the ability to fight on a relatively even playing field with the various supernatural entires in this world, who's physical capability was far above that of the average human, even amongst the weakest of them like Low Devils and two winged Angels and Fallen.

That hadn't really phased him, it had been true in his home world as well and there were more than a few successful monster hunting groups composed of humans there, using specialised weaponry, skill and planning to overcome the monsters' advantage of raw power, physical and magical.

EMIYA had been an excellent example of this. As Archer, his stats had only surpassed that of Assassin and Caster in physical capability, and those two classes were the weakest in physical combat. And yet, through use of those three key elements, he had been able to challenge the likes of Lancer and the overpowered game breaker Berserker.

That said, the fact that the Great Red did these modifications implied something that he really didn't want to have to think about.

Though he thought giving him a Magical Core similar to Saber, albeit from the Great Red himself rather than the Welsh Dragon Saber had, was a bit overkill.

Then again, he was a Dragon. The godly entity probably didn't even know the meaning of the word. The Dragon of Dragons was like an elephant among ants. His power able to crush just about anything out of existence with a mere thought. With that much power, what the Dragon had given him was not even a drop in the bucket for him.

It wouldn't stop him from using it though.

His own Magical Core pounded like a second heart, synching with his own physical one, as his body enhanced itself. Muscles became strong enough to cleave stone, his skin more than resilient enough to deflect bullets, his senses sharper than the predators of the land and sea and skies.

The wonders of Reinforcement when used on one's own self, especially when it was boosted by an already enhanced body.

He crouched slightly, his boots digging into the pavement as his amber eyes were now fixed on something, intent burning in them as his whole body tensed.

It took him ten minutes yesterday to run to work. Let's see if he couldn't shave a little more time off of that.

Taking a step forward, he launched himself from the pavement into a full on sprint, the staccato beat of his boots meeting the footpath as he mentally traced and followed the now familiar route to his workplace.

It wouldn't do for the cafe's star chef to be late, after all.

* * *

"I hate the cold," the male voice of Gaghiel muttered into the icy air, his arms wrapping a thick, woollen, ankle length trenchcoat in a desperate attempt to stay warm in the cold English winter night, his body shivering even through the layers of other clothes he wore.

His pale face glared his hate down at the street far below as he balanced, perched, on the lip of the building's tall roof. He really wished he was back in the nice balmy slice of the Underworld that the Fallen Angels called home. It would be much better than this frozen slice of hell on earth. He was almost certain that even Cocytus would be warmer than London was currently.

Even with them hidden, he could feel the icy night air slowly begin to freeze all his flight feathers into ice cubes.

And he had to stay out in it until dawn.

He scowled heavily, muttering imaginative curses under his breath towards his higher ups. Paranoid bastards, the lot of them! Putting him in this city just because there had been circumstantial evidence that Excalibur had been reforged into it's original state before it had been broken during the Great War.

He called bullshit!

He saw the strike that had split the sword into pieces, felt the backlash of raw Holy power as it erased every Devil within a half a mile and sent every Angel, a Fallen or not, within said range tumbling as it shattered. He didn't know if even the Holy Father, if he was still alive, could have put it back together.

If the one who created it couldn't do it, then Michael and the rest of those air-brained fools didn't have a hope.

Still, Gaghiel frowned heavily in the darkness, he couldn't entirely blame the higher ups for their caution.

Contrary to belief, the Battle of Camlann, where Arthur of Camelot had fallen and Mordred was slain, heralding the fall of the hard won and laboriously crafted kingdom, wasn't just a battle of Men. Nor was Arthur just a blessed knight and King. England had been more than just a Kingdom or a country, it had been the base of Heaven's plans, the root from which the Tree of Life would grow as Camelot set an example of a Utopian society.

That field of battle had involved all three Factions. The Fallen had aligned with the Devils for a time with Mordred, each Faction having their own agenda, and Heaven had backed their Champion, Arthur, when they had seen the Fallen and Devils amongst Mordred's army.

It had been one Hell of a battle.

Arthur had been a powerful force for Heaven, despite his human frailness. Where lesser men would buckle, where Angels would falter, he stood strong and powerful, wading into the thick of the clash. Fallen and Devil and Human alike had been laid low by Excalibur, the Strongest of the Four Holy Swords. The golden sword cut a swathe through the battlefield, staining the ground red with his foe's blood.

Right up until he ran into Armoni.

Armoni, or Armaros, was one of the highest ranked Fallen, with ten wings. He was one of the leaders, the field commanders, of the Grigori and one of their strongest warriors aside from The Governor, Baraquiel and Shemhazai.

Gaghiel still remembered the tribal tattooed skin of the warrior, making him look more devilish and evil than even one of the Satans.

The Fallen had cut his own swathe through the furor, his favoured weapons being a pair of Light Scimitars, his form whirling like a black wind, a dervish of destruction, through Angel and Man, as he advanced to stand before the King of Camelot.

Still an Angel of Heaven back then, Gaghiel couldn't help but quiver in fear. The killing intent that poured off the two of them had many of the weaker beings in both armies on their knees. It had taken just about all the Guardian of the Sixth Heaven had to keep his feet. The two armies were frozen, petrified in their tracks as the spiritual weight of their desire to kill one another fell on them like the burden of Atlas.

Then the two had clashed.

Sparks of light were thrown across the battlefield, singing and burning anything they touched, as the weapons met, each clash sounding like a thousand thunders, the Light scimitars somehow managing to hold Excalibur at bay, a testament to Armoni's own strength.

No one was stupid enough to get close to the battle, even Mordred, craven coward that he had been, knowing that they could very well have fallen to even their ally's own blade, so deeply focused were the two on each other.

It was a battle that still, even now, stirred the beast of battle with Gaghiel's breast. The clash of warriors true, each of them masters of their own weapons. Armoni blurred with each movement, never staying still, his form like that of a ghost's as he slashed and dodged, spinning and twisting, his blood red blades hungry to drink the blood of their wielder's adversary, showcasing his own physical skills, showing himself to be the clearly faster, more agile, more wild and primal of the two. The bloodthirsty smirk on his face making men tremble.

Arthur, by contrast, was more stately, more stalwart. Wielding his broadsword, he was clearly the slower of the two, his armour weighing him down. But his reflexes more than made up for it, parrying each and every strike, defending himself with a skill unknown amongst even the best of each Faction's champions. It was his strength, though, that allowed him to match the Fallen Champion, able to shove away the strongest of Armoni's blows.

It was a battle of a tiger and a bull. One wild and fanged, moving swiftly and striking like lightning with it's claws. The other absorbing the strikes and knocking the adversary away, the blows stronger and more powerful.

It would all come down to who made the first mistake.

In a surprising event, it had been Arthur who had faltered, his humanity catching up with him, showing a slight fatigue, making him a little slower to recover. His armoured foot slipped on the wet grass, making him stumble.

Armoni had gleefully taken advantage of the slip up.

Where as before his Light-crafted swords were only able to lightly scratch the King's armour, the Fallen abandoned his scimitars, crafting a newer, stronger blade, pouring his power into it until the battlefield was bathed in it's crimson light. Rough and unpolished, the light-blade looked more like a crackling mass of crimson lightning, energy writhing off of it.

A wild grin in his face, he slashed it down on his doomed foe, even as the King held the then golden glowing form of Excalibur, making them clash.

The world seemed to freeze, everything going still, as those two swords met and struggled. That moment seemed to last an eternity, the wind stopped blowing, the carrion crows halted in mid-wingbeat, the world focused on a single event to the exclusion of all else.

Then, to Gaghiel's disbelief, Excalibur, the Strongest Holy Sword, began to crack and splinter, metallic pops and creaks heard throughout the battlefield. Gaghiel only had time to see the shocked faces of both opponents before the blade, pushed to it's limits, simply _shattered_.

And the world had exploded into golden light, the steely death cry of the Holy Father's masterwork ringing out. The sheer force of the explosion of Holy Power had knocked him out, ending his involvement in the Battle of Camlann.

When he came to in the Healing Halls in Heaven, it was to find out that Camelot had fallen, Arthur, who had somehow managed to survive the blast of power from Excalibur, was dead, mortally wounded by his own son, Mordred, who had fallen to his father's spear. Of Armoni, only ashes were found, his existence destroyed by the vengeful Excalibur.

Heaven had lost the day, despite making the Fallen and Devils pay a dear price, and Britain once more descended into chaos and barbarism.

It had been the first stone that had set him, the Roaring Beast of God, the Guardian of the Sixth Heaven, on the path of the Fallen.

And now it seemed that Excalibur, the True Excalibur, had supposedly been reforged, resurrected from the ashes of the past, and was detected to be somewhere in the British Isles a mere month ago. More recent reports had placed it somewhere in London.

Listening posts near Heaven had detected a lot of traffic, communication and otherwise, going back and forth between there and Earth. There were also indications of a build up of forces, the Army of Heaven that he had once been a member of mobilising once more.

Something had also seemed to have stirred up the Devils, whose own forces were also becoming more combat ready. More frequent patrols along the borders and more Devils going to earth as well. These events also had the more militant of the Grigori calling to mobilise their own forces, saying that there may be a secret treaty between the two Factions aimed for the heart of the Grigori, and to strike them first. Kokabiel was particularly vociferous in his opinions, and they were beginning to get some weight among the younger lot, those who had not fought in the Great War and seen it's horrors.

It was a tense time amongst the Factions at this moment. A single spark or scuffle could have the entire powder keg of a situation blow up rather horribly and kick start the Great War anew.

To quote one of his more poetic comrade in arms, '_the future balanced on the edge of a sword.'_

Hence why he was perching on a roof in the cold like a snow covered gargoyle at Two Thirty in the morning.

Father above but he hated this! Couldn't the sword have shown up somewhere a bit warmer? The Bahamas were lovely this time of year. Sun, surf and sand abound, no one would ever think of looking for Excalibur there.

Instead he was now freezing his balls off in a London winter.

Damn it!

He peered down at the street again, his sharp eyes seeing what would normally be hidden from view in the darkness. He had been sensing something in this little shit 'burb of London for the last week, something that reminded him of the pure Light he had once wielded long ago. That was an oddity in itself.

While the Church, and thus Heaven, had a decent presence in Britain, even housing one of the Seven Excaliburs in the country, the real movers and shakers of this place were the Magicians, and by association the Devils. Angels rarely visited the country as a result.

So the fact that something, or someone, with a large amount of Light was roaming around was more than a bit odd.

He frowned harder, his lips a white slash on his face and his eyes narrowed. He could feel something now, a tremor on the spiritual spectrum, something that was moving swiftly. He extended his senses, trying get a feel for it.

His eyebrows almost immediately shot for his hairline. Holy Father! His eyes were wide in shock. The presence was strong, impressively so, but it wasn't something he hadn't encountered before and carried the a subtle hint in it that every Fallen knew that screamed of it possessing a Sacred Gear of some kind, though it was a bit off. The feel of the presence though...that was a bit different.

It was definitely what he had been feeling for a while, the presence saturated in the majesty of pure Light. But the scary thing was that he wasn't emitting the Light, it merely clung to him like a cloak.

This, in turn, meant that this presence wasn't of the Light itself, but had been in the presence of a Holy Artefact of immense power. Extensively.

There were only a few artefacts of such a nature that he knew of, most of them accounted for and residing in the hands of Heaven or had been destroyed in one fashion or another over the centuries of the Holy Father's death.

Suddenly, the possibility that Excalibur had been remade wasn't looking too far fetched.

"Shit," he swore, summing up his situation. It was starting to look like the paranoid bastards-that-be were right. It was lucky that he had been the first to find this presence, his tracking and sensing abilities were one of the reasons that he had be sent on this mission, and not one of the other Factions.

He would have to report in to the Institute as soon as possible.

He focused back on the street, looking at the source of the presence as it rounded a corner a few blocks up, bringing it into his direct line of sight, the distance nothing for his eyes.

At least, he would report _after_ he observed the presence. Knowledge is Power and all that rot.

He watched as the presence, an older teen with red hair and amber eyes, who was currently moving down the street at speeds that would impress the Devil Faction's Knights.

Yes, he would observe this boy for the day and follow him home. Hopefully, his surveillance would be able to lead him to the possible location of the Artefact the boy was exposed to. Time was of the essence also, the other Factions no doubt having their own sniffer hounds in their ranks prowling around the area.

The Light that draped over the boy wasn't exactly the most subtle. It was only the sheer size of London that had made it initially difficult for Gaghiel to find this boy.

If it was Excalibur that the boy was exposed to...

Gaghiel sighed heavily as he stretched out his wings, readying them to fly and follow the speeding kid.

"Shit."

Without another word, he leapt and flapped his wings, soaring over London's cityscape.

Here's hoping this entire situation doesn't become a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

* * *

Lustrous purple hair, so dark that it was verging on black, framed a face of feminine perfection as the face's lips pursed in a small pout.

"Mooooh!" The lady whined, "I was too late!"

The woman huffed in annoyance, kicking her feet in the air as she sat on the edge of building's roof, uncaring of the cold night and the wet snow that seeped through her pants and other clothes.

She had dealt with colder temperatures.

"Stupid Angels," she moaned, "always interrupting my fun."

Her crimson eyes glared childishly at the black wings of the Fallen Angel as it tracked her new choice of 'playmate'. Such durable specimens, if her experienced eyes were any judge, were so hard to come by nowadays. The humans of this era were so frail, so weak. It only took her an hour to break them, and that was if she was going easy on them.

She grunted in an unladylike manner. A pity the damned crow had spotted the toy, she could have had such fun!

Still, she had a face to put to the source of power she had sensed. She would be able to find and scry him anytime she wanted now. She would have another chance to play with the toy. Perhaps another day, when the crow wasn't flapping his wings like the carrion bird he was.

_'Soon_,' she thought, '_soon_.'

A flash of power and the lady was gone, as if she had never been.

* * *

Alright, hope you guys liked this chapter. Not much action I know, but I am just setting the wheels in motion. Next chapter will have a nice brawl for all you fight lovers out there.

Also, the next chapter will reveal Shirou's Gear and the gift he received from the Great Red. I know many of you think that I might have gone overkill when I decided to let Great Red do the 'all of the above' option in regards to giving Shirou an edge but let's all just agree to disagree, yeah?

As always, Please leave a review. They would be much appreciated.

chill out,

kujikiri21


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